


What’s Mine Is Yours

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Cats, Daddy Kink, F/M, Familiars, Groping, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have no idea when this is supposed to take place, Kissing, POV Sabrina Spellman, Parent/Child Incest, a bit - Freeform, can’t forget the daddy kink, definitely after The Mephisto Waltz, no I’m serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22675150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Sabrina is shocked to find her father has a new, and rather un-furry but still adorable, friend.
Relationships: The Dark Lord | Satan/Sabrina Spellman
Comments: 18
Kudos: 132





	What’s Mine Is Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Luke Cook has a cat he calls Chicky, but his full name is Patrick Chicken Stewart. Luke Cook has an Instagram for his cat. After seeing all the pictures of them, I just had to write daddy with a cat. This is a random, sleep-deprived fueled one-shot.

Salem’s back curved, ears flattening against his head, as his usually sleek black tail puffed up into startling fuzz. Sabrina paused, listening to her familiar at once. His nose was scrunching up, making him look fierce and mean as his pupils became slits in his yellow eyes.

“What is it, Salem?”

An ugly rumbling came from his chest.

Sabrina had been about to enter her father’s quarters at Dorian’s Gray room, where he’d taken up an impermanent residence.

Salmen was usually on high alert when Sabrina visited, but never to this degree.

Still, her familiar didn’t contest her as she entered without knocking.

The Dark Lord sat, tall and magnificent, in a chair by the fire, reading over her dad’s — no, Edward Spellman’s — journal. She bristled at the fact that he could touch so important and so precious a thing without permission.

“Oh, do enter,” he purred. “I always appreciate how you knock. Such brilliant manners.”

He turned the page, firelight flickering across his face as he deigned to look up at her.

“What can Daddy do for you?”

“Uh…”

Sabrina had come for, well… company. Her mortal friends didn’t understand the innate darkness living within her, and neither could her Aunties and Ambrose, or her witch friends. It went beyond power granted by the Dark Lord. It _was_ the Dark Lord. It often made Sabrina feel alone, alienated, and a couple weeks back she’d found a way to take care of the empty hurt.

She’d meant to respond with a snide remark about his non-stop insistence that she call him “Daddy,” but instead she was in a trance with the way Salem seemed to walk on just his toes into the room. His rumbling grew louder, lips curling back, sharp, little teeth showing. She could see the white of his claws against black.

“Salem, stop!” she begged her friend. “It’s just… uh, just my dad.”

But soon an echoing growl met her ears, this one higher-pitched.

The Dark Lord gave a light laugh.

“Looks like your familiar found a new friend.”

Before Sabrina could question, a gray, hairless cat charged for Salem.

Sabrina panicked at the violent intent coiled in its body. But Lucifer snapped his fingers, shouting a resounding, “No!”

The cat tried to stray from its course and barreled into Salem, who promptly attacked.

Her father slammed the journal closed, rising as the tussle continued, hissing following in the wake of angry cats.

“Hey!”

“Salem!”

Immediately the cats stopped, and were just lashing tails at each other. Sabrina tried to scoop up Salem, but his head craned to bite. He must have been too in tune with his cat form to think properly.

“It’s okay, Salem.”

“Chicky, come here.”

The hairless cat backed down, and padded over to Lucifer, is little stomach giving a few adorable jiggles. Salem relaxed, but kept a close eye.

Chicky — if that was his real name — purred, rubbing against her father’s legs. He picked him up as Sabrina watched, shocked. The cat bumped his head into him and gave him a kiss.

Finally:

“You have a cat?!” Sabrina asked in outrageous surprise.

The Dark Lord gave her a mix between a pout and a frown, his lips suddenly looking very… well, kissable.

“You can’t have a cat!” she went on.

“And why not? You have one.”

Salem hissed, paw hanging in the air as if he wished to swat.

Sabrina planted her hands on her hips.

“Salem is my _familiar_.”

“You’re a daughter of a celestial entity, I daresay a familiar is beneath your needs. He can be a decoration, yes? Or perhaps a companion? Why can’t I have one as well?” Chicky continued rubbing his face against her father, adorable nose pressing, and kissing. He shifted in his arms, cuddled up against him. Paws kneaded at his shoulder. “I must admit he is more affectionate than you. Isn’t that right, Chicky? Yes, it is. Daddy loves you.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Sabrina asked.

“Never, my darling girl.”

Sabrina finally closed the door, and settled onto the edge of his bed. Lucifer put Chicky down and the cat began to interact with Salem. The two raised paws at each other at first as they sat across from one another, planning to hit, but soon they were rubbing against each one another, loud coos of “ _brrt!_ ” coming from them. If they were just cats they never would’ve started to get along so quickly, but familiars were smart, could eventually outthink that blunders and perceived insults of confusing body language.

The Dark Lord came over to her, cupped her cheeks in his large hands, and planted a kiss on her head.

“I could again ask what you need of me, but” — he made her look into his eyes, and her earlier shock washed away, revealing her sadness and deep shame — “I think I know.”

“Is this wrong?” Sabrina asked, as Lucifer began to pet her hair. He then knelt down by her, holding her legs to him, mouth kissing at her thigh over her black, leather skirt. His red robe was open, showing an impressively muscular chest and abdomen. “I shouldn’t be coming to you.”

“Wrong is beneath us, Sabrina. Mortals have their laws, as do witches, but we have our own. We’re royalty, power.”

“But maybe I don’t want to be that kind of queen.”

He paused, his hand sliding under her skirt, leaving her tense and tingling. Her gut twisted with mortification.

“Yet here you are.”

Those words, the same words he’d said to her upon their first meeting. She’d fought and fought and fought, and still she’d ended up before him, her king. And still the unknown date of their marriage loomed over them. Her continuous will and desire to fight against him had hurt so many: the coven, Nick, surely Lilith. And she didn’t dare think about the balance she’d upset, worrying that it had more consequences on Heaven and Earth that couldn’t be seen.

Fighting broke people. _She_ broke people.

It seemed as though this truly, unequivocally had to be. Salem seemed to solidify that by climbing up on Lucifer’s calves, settling himself down and trapping her fearsome father.

Sabrina laughed, and the Dark Lord grinned. He twisted to pet Salem, but that earned him a hiss and a scratch, even an attempt at a bite.

So the two still weren’t warmed up to each other. Perhaps Salem was getting close, doing his duty as her guard by lulling him into thinking all was right so that her father would let himself be vulnerable. Impressive idea, especially for familiars, who were used to dealing with threats head-on. They didn’t tend to have tact.

Chicky went after Salem’s tail, and the two began to playfight. The Dark Lord shifted, broken from his reverie, his enthrallment with her, and shouted, “Oi! Not on my legs. Those are important.”

Sabrina fell into him as she laughed and the cats moved on, roaming under his black, varnished desk laden with papers addressing issues in Hell, particularly with the nobility.

“They’re an unlikely pair,” Sabrina commented.

The Dark Lord’s hand rose up her leg under her skirt, and she teased by keeping her legs closed. He raised himself up, and kissed her, and for the moment Sabrina decided to forget her life outside of this. All there was to know was that she was understood, and she wasn’t lonely. His soft lips brought comfort and companionship.

“No, I believe they are not,” he breathed against her lips once breaking apart. “It’s only natural that what’s mine and what’s yours should be connected, belonging to both.”

His lips then crashed against hers and she opened her legs, even leaning into him as he began to knead her breast, deciding he might just be right.


End file.
